Kidpool the II and the Philosophers Stone
by The General Electric
Summary: Deadpool has done alot in his life. He's saved entire planets from chaos and destruction, killed many a man and even traveled through time. But now he's raised a son, left on at his door by mistake, a son named Harry Potter. Or Kidpool the II. Whatever.
1. This is Where the Story Begins

'_The man who was Wade Wilson, yet might not really be Wade Wilson, who might in fact be a man named Jack ("__**Don't you come back. No more. No more. No More. No More!") **__was confused. It was, disconcerting to the unstable mercenary; he was used to being the confuser, not the confusee.  
Weather those were actually words mattered little at this moment in time, for staring at him, from the bottom of his scabby, scabby legs was a baby.  
Sure the baby was cute, most babies were, and there was something about a being with a fully malleable brain that was just so appealing, but that was getting off track._'

"Ga goo?"

**'Deadpool, the Merc with a Mouth, artificial Mutant, savoir of many worlds, sailor of the multi-verse, friendly antagonist of many a Marvel Mayflower, leader of the daring Deadpool Corps and all around sexy man of sex was startled out of his reverie. The baby had talked... well, made a sound, so it was apparently a living baby on his doorstep, bonus really. He was sure if a Superhero (**"_God forbid it was an X-man."_**) stumbled upon his super secret spidey hideout of super special surprises (**_"Read painful death."_**) and found him in possession of a baby corpse, they might not be so apathetic to letting him continue to roam around unchecked.'**

**"**And we can't have that now can we little man?" the man questioned of the child with the messy black hair and inquisitive emerald eyes. "After all, Wolverines a scary summbitch when he's not whoring himself out to every known Marvel Group known to the multiverse. Can you say that? Wolverine, Summbitch?"

"Sumabith! Sumabith!"

"Well, it's a start." Twisting his head left and right, making sure there was no one hiding in the shadows who could possibly ruin his badass rep. Deadpool did not care for babies. Nope, not at all. No way no how. Babies were strangled by him. He ground their bones to dust for his bread and used the rest as Jam. He kicked them into wood chippers, big wood chippers, while drowning puppies.

Or so his rep said.

"Let's get you inside little man, and let me educate you in the ways of Bea Arthur, insanity, hand grenades and the one true way of ruining multiple franchises in just one fell swoop.'  
"With a crossover!"

* * *

'_In 10 years little Wade Wilson Jr had grown into a dashing young man. Of course according to Both Outlaw and WWJ that was not his name. According to the letter attached to his bouncy baby bassinet, it was not his name._

_No. Apparently his name was Harry Potter, and silly Outlaw and WWJ had decided to go with it.'_

**"Fools, both of them, but that was the way the world worked after all. Nobody ever listened to dear departed Deadpool, after all he was insane, even his own inner monologue believed him to be dead, but maybe that was just to have an excuse to implement alliteration."  
**

_"Alliteration is fun after all."_

_"_Indeed."

"Dad?"

**'Turning to the kitchen door, Deadpool saw his legacy standing tall in a nice pair of camo pants and a rather fetching collared shirt. He wiped a tear away from his eye, knowing in a few years, Har... Wade Wilson Junior, would be as big a playboy as his dear departed Deadpool Dad.'**

"Stop it Dad." **'Tito 2 drawled.' **

"Stop What?" '_Deadpool inquired innocently, genuinely confused.'_

_"_I know you're narrating our life again Dad, you have the Morgan Freeman twinkle going on, it's disturbing." Harry shivered.

Deadpool laughed. Oh yes, his son was a great kid. "**Inherited most of his good traits, except for the constant desire to break the fourth wall of Marvel. He just couldn't accept the fact that he was part of a fictional multiverse of Mutants, Wizards, Mad Scientists and Atomic Spidermen. Just like the rest of the Marvel universe really."**

"Dad!"

"I'm just screwing with you Kidpool the II."

"Prick..."

"HEY! Don't make me Narrate."

"I'll be good." cringed Harry backing down. Deadpool nodded happily.

"By the way, letter for you, written on parchment, probably from Doc Strange. Possibly Wade Fakeson, trying to convince you to stab me in the back again." Deadpool laughed causing Harry to smile. T-Ray was an endless source of amusement for the pair. He was just so... pathetic, in his attempts to sway Harry to his side. They had a bet going on whether or not he would try to convince Harry he was his Biological father, in a manner reminiscent of Darth Vadar.

"Nah, T-Ray's request are written with pens on paper, and the writing is way too fancy for him. He writes in chicken scratch. Like you said prob'ly from Strange." Harry paused. A bemused look coming over his face. "But then again, why the hell would Strange be writing to me?"

Stopping the spoon of Captain Crunch halfway to his mouth Deadpool conceded the point with a slight bob of his head. "Indeed, I don't think the good Doctor has met you before, and you haven't exhibited any magic based mutagenic powers. Good work Tito II!"

Sighing Harry picked up the letter, one of these days he would get his dad to settle on a name.

Pft, yeah, right. And Wolverine was cute and cuddly.

"What about at Stryker's base? Was that not even slightly magical?" Harry asked, somewhat subdued.

"Well obviously, but apparently not mutagenic, and decidedly non-cannon, we were forgetting that ever happened weren't... OH! Golden Girls is on! I'm a comin' Bea!"

Shaking his head Harry turned the letter over in his hand.

* * *

**Harry Potter  
Smallest Bedroom, 22nd and 3rd Street, Apartment 53B,  
New York City, State of New York.**

* * *

"That was... oddly specific."

Slicing open the letter with a forgotten Katana, Harry read.

* * *

HOGWARTS SCHOOL  
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore  
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,  
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.  
Term begins on September 1. We will be sending a representative to escort you to Diagon Alley to procure your equipment within the next 3 days and to answer any questions you may have.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall  
Deputy Headmistress

* * *

"Questions?" Harry deadpanned. "Questions?" He repeated for emphasis. "Where in the hell do I begin?" _'Young Kidpool bit out with a yell.'_ "GODDAMN IT DAD!"

* * *

**Well, I think it is safe to say my enthusiasm for **Four Front War** is gone, finished, finito. (Same could be said for **Ninja Yarn**, although THAT I believe is salvageable) As a writer and reader I have since grown up from when I first wrote that and have developed a healthy dislike of Gary Stus and Mary Sues, and my portrayal of Harry in that is way much Stu. **

**So this. Where did this come from? Well, I like Deadpool, always have, always will, and I was reading a story called "Little Green Boxes" which was a HP/Deadpool Cross. And it was pretty good. The problem was it was a Parody really. It didn't do what I feel Deadpool does and makes fun of itself while maintaining a completely serious face at the same time.**

**So this is my attempt at that. Also, Harry isn't 4th wall breaking. He was raised by the man, but there can be no replacement for Wade Wilson. (Except possibly T-Ray or Deadpool himself, who knows?)**

**Anywho, yeah. Forgive the letter, I will edit it to the proper thing when it isn't midnight, and I don't have work in the morning.**

**So, this is this. Just a decent bit of fun. Take it with a grain of salt.**

**Jordan Out.**

EDIT - Redid the letter using the actual letter from the books as a base.  



	2. Hi Mum! I'm on TV!

**Chapter 2: Pain Factor**

"So... Pigsores huh?"

"Hogwarts... and yeah."

_"_Huh. Sounds like a cult."

"That or something like Xavier's school."

"Like I said. A cult."

"Heh, I guess." Harry said with a grin. He looked back to the letter, stuck fast to the fridge with a high end hunting knife. So a few of Wade Wilson's habits had bled through over the years. Outlaw had been pissed at that, every last X-man had been pissed at that. Except Kitty Pryde. But she was always more supportive of Harry's presence in his dad's life. Spiderman also supported the relationship, if only for the fact that it pissed off Wolverine. Even so, Parker was a good friend of his and on occasion taken him web slinging across New York's horizon and bought the boy Ice Cream. Was always a good bit of fun, especially that one time where they had landed into a fight with both Electro and Eddie "Venom" Brock.

He still had nightmares about that tongue.

Turning his attention back to his father he began what would surely be an interesting conversation. "So, suppose this is real and they are in fact sending someone over tomorrow..."

"Two." The Mercenary interrupted.

"I'm sorry?"

"Letter's Post marked yesterday little Tito;" _The ever so sexy Merc explained, correcting his ever naïve and less sexy son._ "As such, this representative will be here in two days."

Harry rolled his eyes, trying hard to ignore the gleam of narration in his father's eyes. "Yes, dad, contrary to what people think, you did teach me how to count." He said, even if the only reason the Mercenary had taught him just so he could count any sudden up swell of cash properly. " But you forgot to factor in time difference, stupid old man. Our today is their yesterday, so I think we only have 1 day left."

"Wait, we're a day behind?"

"...yes." Harry responded warily. Not liking the twinkle in his father's eyes.

"They're in the FUTURE?"

"DAD! FOCUS!" Harry shouted back, even after 10 years of it, unable to believe that his guardian continued to outdo each and every benchmark of insanity he set, day after day. "Hogwarts. Representative. Entire world being shaken here."

"Oh yeah. That. I've got an idea."

"Oh really?"

When Wade Wilson began chuckling, even if it was a quick snort, everyone in the greater universe knew that you should probably run. Really fast and really far.  
When he busted out the evil Scientist Cackle, well, all you could really do was run faster and run farther.  
"Oh, I have an idea alright. Bit crazy, and going to need to commandeer an oil rig or two, maybe an old warehouse, something extravagant and ridiculous. Also going to need to amass the fan boy masses. Lot to ask for just 24 hours to get ready." Wade spoke quickly hand on his chin. **"Stroking it like the boss he was."**

"What are you planning in that diseased, deformed mind of yours my dear, deranged, Daddy?" Harry asked, apprehension and excitement clear in his voice.

"Tell me Junior;" Deadpool began, removing his mask, scabbed face stretched into an insane grin. "What do you remember of Pain Factor?"

-/-

Rubeus Hagrid was having a very bad day.

Backing up 5 hours, he had been very excited, having delivered Harry to the steps of his Aunt and Uncle's house, he had developed a soft spot for the boy and had looked forward to seeing what kind of kid Harry had grown to become and also somewhat curious about how he had come to be in America, so far away from where Dumbledore had left him.

That had been a few hours ago. Knocking on the small apartment door, a man dressed in red had opened it.

"Wow you are a big boy aren't you?"

"Err, I guess so?" he had responded, a little put off by the man's rather, form fitting, outfit. "Not to be rude or nothin', but who are you?"

"Oh how rude of me, I apologize. My name is Wade Wilson, although it might not be, who really knows anymore? I wonder if anyone even cares at this point. You can call me Deadpool." He had said rather quickly. "Well, now that I've introduced myself, you would be?"

"Err, Rubeus Hagrid, here for Harry Potter." He had stammered out, still a little unnerved by the man's appearance and attitude.

The man in red nodded in comprehension. "Ah yes, you're from Pigsores yes?"

"Hogwarts." Hagrid replied a little annoyed at the unintentional slight against his home. "May I come in and speak with Harry."

"Not a problem my good man. Come on in, come on in." as he stepped through the doorway, everything suddenly went black.

He had woken up a few hours later, according to his watch. In an old abandoned building complex. For the last 3 hours, he had stumbled around, trapped in this maze like warehouse, tearing through enemy after enemy, all trying to keep him away from Harry. Keeping the boy hostage, as it were.

But now, oh now he knew why Harry was here. This madman, this insane, deranged man, had kidnapped Harry, in the hopes of crafting the boy into a minion of dark magic. It was so obvious. And he could not allow this to carry on any longer.

"What's wrong oh haggard man giant?" The infuriating voice came back to life, as the red masked man's face was splashed across a large TB (He thought that was what the muggles called) eyes obviously stretched into a far too happy expression behind the mask. "You're looking a little worn out."

"Damn you! I won't let you 'ave 'im! You won't turn 'Arry into a Dark Wizard!"

"Now that's the spirit Hagrid old chap!" Deadpool grinned adopting a British accent. "You've run through my army of super soldiers, and by super soldiers I do mean fan boys, but they are vicious fan boys, dragged from only the most vile and disgusting anime and superhero conventions, and injected with barrels and barrels of rage inducing steroids, to give them just a little more bite, and yet you've managed to take them all out, you even bested adorably angry hammer swinging Beauregard. That wasn't very nice of you, he was just a harmless little thing." The red clad man gently chastised.

"Would ya just shut the 'ell up already you annoyin' bastard!" Hagrid growled, swinging his flowery umbrella around, shooting off a red jet that rendered another idiot with a wooden club unconscious. "I'm gonna find ya, and I'm gonna tear you apart for kidnappin' 'Arry!"

"Well then, you are in luck my largely proportioned friend!" he sang happily. "Just one more room to go, one more door to open. Rubeus Hagrid, ready to stake his claim on our grand prize, my giant little man, COME ON DOWN!"

The large man let out a feral roar, before dashing down the hall, tearing through the thin plywood door in front of him. He stopped suddenly as he was blinded by a vicious light, applause ringing through the room.

"Wha' the…?" he murmured confusedly. As his eyes slowly adjusted to the light. Wooden stands erected around the room, people dressed the same way as the minions, 'fan boys' as the red clad man had called them, giving him a standing ovation.

"Congratulations, Rubeus Hagrid, you have beaten the Pain Factor gauntlet, and come through the old Coca-Cola factory victorious."

"You!" Hagrid growled as he saw the man who had put him through this madness in the first place. Standing at the top of a rickety old set of stairs, cocky and confident, dressed head to toe in red and black… something, he didn't recognize the fabric.

"Me! And you Rubeus Hagrid have done something amazing today. Come on, let's give the man a round of applause!" The man addressed the gathered men and woman. Hagrid stood there hands gripping his umbrella tighter and tighter. The broken wand parts hidden within it sparking to his anger. After about a minute the man gave a loud whistle. "Alright, alright, a little bit of shush please, a little bit of shush. Thank you. Thank you. Now, Hagrid my friend."

"I ain't your friend, ya bastard!" he snarled.

"Well, in any case, you've conquered my challenge, you've beaten my men, and bested Beauregard, now it's time for you to get your reward!" he declared, as he disappeared in a puff of smoke, reappearing at the bottom of the stairs. "An 11 year old boy! Kidpool Junior, come on down!"

Hagrid's face snapped back to the top of the stairs as the focused light swung over to the top of the stairs, a figure standing there, messy black hair and emerald green eyes revealed by the light.

"Hello, Hagrid was it?" the boy grinned hands playing with a rather wicked looking sword, a smirk on his face. "Convince me, buddy, just why should I agree to attend Hogwarts this September?"

Hagrid's umbrella dropped to the ground, anger dissipating in an instant. Muttering 3 words.

"Wha' th' fuck?"

-/-

**End of Chapter 2**

**Jeez, finally, gah!  
To think, I finally managed to knock out a multi-chapter story update. It surprises even mine self. **

**Yes, I just said mine self. Fucking deal with it.**

**If I had to guess, I would say it was the spontaneous additional 4 reviews plus Sean's polite enquiries into this stories progress which injected a bit of motivation into me, driving me to finish this chapter which I've had half written since the week I first posted chapter 1.**

**Anyway, I just doubled the story's word count, (Even before the Authors Ramblings) and advanced the plot up to Diagon Alley, so that's a bonus.**

**Also yes, I stole Pain Factor from Shattered Dimensions, and it was a completely different Deadpool that hosted it, I am aware. So don't say I messed up, I did it on purpose.**


	3. Alley Cats

**Chapter 3: Alley Cat**

Diagon Alley.

It was a pun his Dad would be proud of and something he would have smacked his Dad for saying shortly thereafter.

He had to admit though, the diagonal Diagon Alley made one hell of an impression. All kinds of weird sounds and noises assaulted his senses as he stepped through the brick arch Hagrid had made appear with his umbrella of doom. (Which the large man seemed reluctant to use at all, even for something as small as opening the arch. ('_Used too much already, ministries not going tah be 'appy.' _Harry had caught the Gamekeeper mutter at one point)

Speaking of the Gamekeeper, the large man had kept looking at Harry like he was going to snap and go on a killing spree at any second, as entertaining as it had been, maybe they shouldn't have put the man through the stress of Pain Factor.

Then again it had been _incredibly_ amusing, especially because unlike Hagrid, he knew the giant man was in no mortal danger, he had made Deadpool promise that much, after all, he was no Spiderman.

Following the man further into the alley, his eyes continued to wander, soaking in every detail. An ice cream store that sold burning ice cream, a book store with large leather bound tomes in the front window, a book titled 'Mutants – Mental Deviance' catching his eye especially and honest to God racing brooms, the display advertising the 'Nimbus 2000,' whatever the hell a Nimbus 2000 was.

And then he hit something solid, falling back onto the ground.

"Watch yer step there 'Arry." Hagrid spoke, holding out his hand to the fallen boy. Apparently in his distraction, he had failed to notice Hagrid had stopped walking, and walked into him at a rather quick pace.

He nodded, giving a quick "Thanks" to the man for the help off the ground, before he froze, eyes shooting wide open.

It was white, brilliantly, brightly white. Dwarfing the other buildings in the Alley the giant chiselled marble building stopped him dead in his tracks.

He had seen many impressive buildings and structures in the 10 years he had been with Deadpool. Xavier's Academy, the Oscorp Labs, The Doom Ship hell, even Stryker's Hellhole had some morbid beauty about it.

But this, oh this was something else.

"Dear sweet merciful God. I don't know what that building is Hagrid, but I want one just like it." He whispered reverently prompting Hagrid to chuckle heartily.

"That thur 'Arry, is Gringotts. The Wizardin' Bank, and it's our first stop." Harry quivered with excitement, as they ascended the stairs; each footstep echoing off the marble in a perfect acoustic pitch, as they reached the top, a plaque across the entrance caught his attention.

*Insert  
Gringotts  
Warning  
Here*

Harry whimpered. He had found Nirvana.

-/-

"May I help you?" The gnarled creature behind the counter asked in, what sounded like, a polite tone, but Harry could hear the sarcasm in the creature's voice.

"Yes, we're here to make a withdrawal from the Potter vault, err this is Harry Potter here." Hagrid said, sounding somewhat apprehensive, weather it was the creature that looked like a distant cousin of The Thing's, or if he was still unsure on Harry's identity he didn't know. The Goblin raised an eyebrow, a quick twitch of its mouth revealed a set of razor sharp teeth, as it drawled.

"Key?"

"Ah, yea got it here somewhere." Hagrid spoke, digging into the raggedy jacket he was wearing, pulling out item after item of indistinguishable piles, some of which moved around a little, and he could have sworn he saw a birthday cake come out of there, it was 3 minutes later, and one rather messy bank counter later, Hagrid let out an exclamation of success as he produced a comically small (In the large man's hands at least) golden key, the Goblins face falling slightly in disappointment.

Harry was sure it had been expecting to gut Hagrid for fraud or something. It definitely looked mean enough to do just that.

As the Gamekeeper cleared off the bench he handed the creature an ornate envelope and added in a whisper, or at least probably counted for a whisper when you were that large; "I'm also 'ere to wit'draw the you-know-what in Vault 713."

The teller raised a cracked eyebrow at that, as it slit open the envelope and read the letter inside. Apparently whatever had been written on it had been sufficient enough as the teller snapped his fingers and called for "Griphook."

"Take these two gentlemen;" his eyes landed on Hagrid, face scrunching up in a pained expression, as if it physically hurt to address the man as such. "Down to the Potter Vault, as well as Vault 713, just the large one authorized to enter there." The teller finished, 'Griphook' bowing and gesturing at the two to follow.

-/-

Screw Nirvana, this place was beyond that.

First, the insanely extreme roller coaster ride had endeared him even more to the designers and builders of Gringotts, and gave him even more reason to one day have his own building just like this one.

Secondly, all of the gold and the piles of jewels locked away in the _Potter_ vault. All his, not Deadpool's, not anyone else's, just his. No longer would he let his father guilt trip him for scabbing off the bounties he had earned. No longer would he let the man call him a charity case. Harry Potter was rich and Deadpool could suck it.

Breathing deeply, he walked into the vault.

He vaguely heard Hagrid say something about how his parents wouldn't leave him with nothing upon their deaths and go on to explain the monetary system of the Wizards and Witches to him.  
Taking quick note of each coins worth before grabbing at least a good 4, 500 of the shiny (So very shiny) gold coins, and putting them into 5 empty 9mm Magazines he kept on his person at all times, the empty bits of metal making for awesome distractions in a tight situation.

Or so Solid Snake would have him believe. He had yet to put the video games advice into practice in a live fire situation, but he doubted Hideo would lie about such a thing.

Taking one last quick look at the large, and it was _large_, fortune in front of his eyes; he reluctantly walked out the vault door and back towards the Rollercoaster of Awesome Awesomeness (For want of a better name) and grinned.

He couldn't wait to see what was so important that Hagrid had treated vault 713 like the world's biggest secret.

-/-

He frowned as he walked up to Madam Malkin's, having split off from Hagrid who had run off on his own to do God knew what, where he would apparently be fitted for his uniform.

Vault 713 had been a massive let down. No king's ransom. Not a castle's worth of gems. Not even some sort of deathly armoury of doom. Just a ratty old package wrapped in brown paper in string. Such an anti-climax.

And now he was told he couldn't buy his own goddamn broom for it was forbidden for first years to have their own at Hogwarts.

Anymore let downs of this calibre and he might adapt his father's habit of referring to Hogwarts as Pigsores just to spite the bastards

"Won't he be going to Hogwarts this year?" he heard a woman sitting outside a café of some sort question a friend of hers who, if he put it kindly, looked like the Elephant Man's slightly more attractive cousin, the Hippopotamus Woman.

"Who will be going to Hogwarts this year Amalia?" said Hippo Lady asked. Although Harry got the feeling she already known the answer and had only asked to add some drama to the conversation.

"Don't tease Cassie;" Amalia replied, playfully slapping her friend on the wrist. "Harry Potter of course."

Now that stopped him dead in his tracks. Harry Potter, as in him? Why would two middle aged woman he had never met before be discussing his admission into a school he hadn't know existed up until 3 days ago.

"Oh yes, Harry Potter. It's been 10 years hasn't it?" the Hippo said sadly. "Horrible business wasn't it, Lily and James Potter, dead in a single night, You-know-Who himself, killing them personally." James and Lily Potter? He clutched his head as a sudden wave of pain hit him. Visions of a red haired green eyed woman hugging him close, tweaking his nose as his stubby little arms pulled a little too hard on the hair that framed her face. A scolding look on her face, but such warmth in her eyes. A man who bore a strong resemblance to himself, chestnut eyes sparkling with mischief, as suddenly there wasn't a man but a stag standing in front of him, Prongs…

"Young man, are you okay? Are you lost?" huh, he'd fallen to the ground. When had that happened?

"Ye… yeah. I'm, I'm fine. Just tripped is all." He replied, idly noticing that it was the Hippo lady who had addressed him, holding a hand on his shoulder. "Thanks for the concern." And he was off, ignoring the cries of concern that followed him as he put distance between himself and the slowly gathering crowd. Voices and images flashing though his head.

"_It's him. Lily, get Harry. Take him and run!"_

He swung into an alley as the memory kept playing.

"_He was brave, even in the face of despair. I respect that."_

He collapsed again, the knees of his jeans tearing as he slid across the gravelly ground.

"_Give me your child girl, and you may live.'_

He felt his stomach kick as he retched up his breakfast.

"_No, not Harry. I won't let you have him. Take me instead! Take me!"_

He heaved in breath after breath as his stomach clenched after kicking up everything in it.

"_Very well. Don't say I didn't offer. Avada Kedavra."_

He cried in rage and pain. As his eyes were blinded by green light.

"_You are the child? Hmph, you aren't even slightly remarkable. _

"No, no, no." he muttered, even though it would do nothing to change what he was watching play out.

"_Goodbye, Harry Potter. You won't even be a footnote."_

And he screamed, tears streaming down his face. As he remembered just how cruel life could be.

His only memory of his parents, Lily and James Potter, and it was watching them die.

-/-

He stepped up to the building that read "Madam Malkin's," where he'd been heading before breaking down in the middle of the Alley. He had spent 20 minutes in that Alley, letting the sorrow pass and collecting himself before he had even stood up. He would deal with the pain and rage later, most likely when he confronted Hagrid about perfect strangers gossiping about him, preferably when he could corner Hagrid in a private setting, where it wouldn't escalate into a public scene.

He flinched, so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn't realized that he had entered the store and let the woman sneak up on him. "Hogwarts dear?" Turning around at the nasally voice behind him, he resisted every instinct in his body to scream, cover his eyes and run right back out the door, as he was confronted with the most eye wateringly yellow suit he had ever seen asked.

And he had seen Wolverine dressed in his original X-Man uniform.

He nodded absently, blinking his eyes trying to rid himself of the spots that had appeared in his vision. Still struggling to keep his feet from taking him away from the obviously colour blind woman.

Allowing himself to be lead to a wooden stool, he took notice of a blonde boy on another stool already being fitted for… _something_, opposite him, that looked around his age.

Wait, was that a dress?

"You a first year at Hogwarts too then?"

'_The uniform is a dress? Okay, that's it. Fuck Hogwarts. Fuck it hard.'_

"Yes." Harry replied with a sigh. "I'm off to Pigsores as well."

The boy's face twisted in confusion at the name, so he explained.

"Today has been a few bits of awesome, mixed in with a long series of disappointments. I believe this to be Hogwarts's fault. Or at the least they are associated with those responsible." And they probably were, especially when it had come to his rather public breakdown. Was it really so hard for Hagrid to warn him on the 18 hour flight over the Atlantic? '_Oh, by the way Harry? People you've never met b'fore migh' be talkin' abou' you an' your attendance at 'ogwarts. Jus' a 'eads up.' _Really, not that hard. "As such, I will continue to refer to the school as Pigsores until such a time that said institution provides a gratuitous amount of awesomeness that outweigh the horrid slew of disappointments."

"I see." The boy drawled, obviously not seeing at all, but not willing to admit as such. Obviously a Politician's child. "What kind of disappointments?"

Harry flinched as the sunshine lady came back in, setting measuring tape and needles to work autonomously (which, he admitted to himself, was kind of cool) he knew exactly how to respond.

"Exhibit A, we're being fitted for dresses." He smirked, cheering himself out of the funk he had worked himself into remembering his parents being murdered.

"These aren't dresses; these are robes, which any self-respecting wizard should well know." The boy bit out, before his eyes widened in shock and… disgust? "Merlin, you're a mudblood aren't you?"

Before Harry could even ask just what kind of infantile insult mudblood was, or in fact if it was even a real word, the Yellow Canary beat him to it.

"You listen here boy." She bit out a growl, icy and angry, nothing like the nasally voice she had greeted him in. "I don't care who your father is, you use language like that again and Malfoy or not, I will throw you out of my shop myself with my own two hands, is that understood?" she asked coldly, holding a needle quite close to the blondes eye.

"How dare you threaten me, when I tell my father…" he began to stammer out, but once again the woman beat him to it.

"Go ahead boy, and when he comes in here and demands I apologize for mistreating his son, I will tell him exactly why his spoiled little brat of a son is no longer welcome in here any longer and why exactly I found it necessary to physically throw him out of the my store." '_Her store?_ _Must be the Malkin on the sign then.'_ Harry thought to himself. "I'm sure he'd love to hear what kind dirt tongued son he's raised. Don't you think so, Mr Malfoy?" Harry bit back a chuckle as the boy's, Malfoy's, mouth opened and closed silently, eyes wide in shock, as if he had never been told off in his life. "Well? Do you think your father would enjoy that story or not young man?"

"No." Malfoy whispered in defeat, eyes narrowed in silent anger.

Malkin nodded in satisfaction. "Good. You will stand there, and stay your tongue while I finish fitting your robes. If you wish to speak amongst yourselves, that is fine. But if I hear so much as 'mud', from either of you;" The Madams eyes sweeping to Harry now, he gulped silently, knowing she had heard his dress crack earlier as her eyes flashed ice. "You will be out on your rears faster than you can say 'blood', understood?"

"Yes Madam." Harry quickly acquiesced. "No trouble from us madam, none at all." He agreed with a quick smile and nod of his head.

"Very good, Mr… I'm sorry child; I didn't catch your name."

"Harrison." He replied slowly, erring on the side of caution in revealing his name, based on the way the gossips he had heard outside earlier had begun to speak about him before his breakdown; he didn't want to risk even the possibility of a scene just yet. He really needed to talk to Hagrid soon. "Harrison Ford."

-/-

**Was it worth it?**

**To those who missed it, or those who have only just stumbled onto this fic, I posted the last two chapters within minutes of each other.** **Which is like, 10,000 times my usual production rate.**

**Suppose I felt inspired.**

**Did the whole scene with Harry remembering his parent's deaths seem a little too dark? I apologise if you feel that way, but as I said when I listed "LGB" as inspiration, I explicitly stated this wouldn't be pure parody like "LGB" and would attempt to take itself seriously as well as be comical when appropriate, as the Deadpool comics (The initial volumes, maybe Noir (still not read that so I can't say with any kind of certainly); Not Corps though, definitely not Corps) do themselves.  
Anyway, adding to the x2 update, I figured I'd give you all a peek at an early Hogwarts scene I already have written down, making this my most outlined fic going at the moment.**

**Which is not saying much, to be fucking honest.**

**-Preview-**

A piercing whistle shot through the air, the troll's club stopping millimetres from the girls face.  
Both witch and troll turned their eyes towards the bathroom door. Their standing with all the confidence in the world was The-Boy-Who-Lived.

"Hey, Hermione, you okay? I've come to save you!" He declared with a smile, only to quickly roll to the side as he was forced to dodge a flying basin, courtesy of the troll. "Well, hello to you to ugly." He grinned "my name is Harry Potter and this;" he nodded to a spot of thin air where his hand had grasped, and in a blink of the eye, a modest sword appeared, sheathed on his back. Drawing it slowly he continued "This is my Killing Sword. Please note the capital letters, it is in fact a name and title, and we would both appreciate it if you both treated as such. That means you too Ms. Granger, but you can just call him K-Sword. Now, Killing Sword;" now directly addressing the blade in his hand, which had been levelled straight at the large hulking beast, who had frozen in confusion at the actions of the noisy little snack who didn't seem to be quite as scared or frantic as most snacks tended to be. "Say hello to Mr Troll." He smirked, before disappearing in a puff of smoke. Hermione's eyes widened as he reappeared (breaking one of the most fundamental rules of the Hogwarts Wards and apparating within the Castle) crouched next to her, one arm around her shoulders, the other holding his sword, already in mid swing.

The Troll roared in pain as the blade tore into its back. Grabbing its club with both hands, the troll spun around in immediate response, the large gnarled club shattering the line of sinks under which Hermione had been hiding and a section of the wall. Completing its assault against the porcelain, the Troll stared curiously into the wreckage, wondering why it wasn't seeing two broken and feeble snacks lying within the rubble.

Its question was answered as another loud whistle split the silence.

Spinning around, it spotted the two snacks silhouetted in the doorway, the frizzy one held tightly in the noisy one's grip, the snacks weapon dripping crimson with its blood, eyes hard, mouth twisted in a snarl.

"Killing Sword says hi."

-/-**End Preview-/-**

**I think that brings this Authors note up to just over 600 words. Jesus, Homoerotic Christ, that's stupidly long. But I figure the preview makes it okay.**

**Until next update then, see you #minedroogies.**

**Trend it.**


	4. Alley Cats Cont

**Chapter Four: Alley Cats Cont.**

"Ah, 'Arry, there you are."

Growling slightly, the boy turned towards the large man, the look in his eyes stopping Hagrid in his tracks with his intensity.

"We need to talk."

"Ah… sure 'Arry, sure." Hagrid stuttered. "But let's go get your wand first."

"No. Talk first, wand later." Harry said, striding back toward the Leaky Cauldron.

With no other choice, but to leave the boy to get lost, Hagrid followed after Harry dreading the coming conversation.

-/-

Settled up in a private booth, the boy and the giant sat, absorbed in a tensed silence.

"So, er…" Hagrid started awkwardly, fidgeting with his hands. "Wha' did you wanna talk abou'?"

Harry just stared at the man, hands folded on his lap, not saying a word.

"Er, th' shops'll be closin' soon, we should probly…"

"Sit." Harry interrupted sharply, as the giant man went to stand. "Sit, and tell me why virtual strangers are not only talking about me on the streets, but why they seem to know more about my own life than I do."

"I don' really think I'm the right person to talk to you abou' this 'Arry."

"Too bad. You're going to do it anyway."

"Well, I s'pose it's cause your famous 'Arry."

"Famous for what?"

"Really 'Arry, I think I should get someone else to explain." The man stated anxiously. Harry sighed as he reached into his jacket, withdrawing an X Communicator out of his jacket. "Er, what's that 'Arry?"

"This Hagrid, is a communicator. In 10 seconds I can talk to a man halfway across the world. This man owes me a favour and has some rather unique talents." "Now, either you explain exactly why I'm famous, or I call in my favour and have my friend Professor Xavier rip the knowledge from your head and tell me himself."

"You wouldn't do that 'Arry." Hagrid stated confidently. "You ain't a Dark Wizard. No Potter is."

The boy looked at the large man incredulously. "Dark Wizard?" he repeated. "I don't even know any magic yet, hell, I didn't even know it existed like this before I got my Pigsores letter." He ignored the man as he weakly corrected 'Hogwarts.' "This has nothing to do with light or dark, or whatever stupid morality issues you seem to be clinging to, this is about you keeping knowledge about my life, _mine_ not yours, to yourself. Information I'm entitled to know. Now either I call my friend, and I learn all I need to know from him, or you stop acting like an idiot and tell me yourself." Harry said with finality, causing the man to drop his jaw in silent shock. "It's your call."

-/-

Halfway across the world, staring up at the golden and red visage of Tony Stark, The Iron Man, from the remains of a collapsed wall, Deadpool sniffed a little, wiping his sleeve across his face to wipe away a few stray tears.

"Oh come on Wilson, did I really smack you that hard?" Tony asked stunned, his mask retracting to show his smirking face.

"Shut up you metal jerk, I'm not crying in pain. These are tears of pride." Deadpool retorted weakly, sniffing through every word.

"Uh-huh." Stark replied sarcastically.

"I feel as if, somewhere and somehow, my little Kidpool II just threatened someone with physical or mental anguish in order to get his way." The red and black clad man piped up cheerfully.

"So he blackmailed someone?"

"Well if you want to be bland about it yeah."

Tony sighed, face in his hand. Why had anyone thought it was a smart idea to leave a child with Deadpool needed some serious mental help.

"I think I'll top up his Pineapple supplies, you can never have too many explosives. Maybe buy him some new light bulbs; his old ones are getting a little worn."

Serious and vicious mental help.

-/-

"It was dark days, back then. You-know-who an' his followers were killing people left righ' 'n' centre. He seemed invincible. At least till he went after you." Hagrid started, drifting off slightly.

"You know who?"

"I… like I said, people were terrified of him, so much so that it became natural not to say his name, for fear of bringing him straight to your doorstep."

"Because of a name?"

"The people who were brave enough to say it, were ending up dead left right and centre and eventually it just became social habit to just say You-know-who, ya know?"

"What was his name?"

"I... I don't really like to say it. Even now, the fear's still there ya know?"

"What happened with my parents Hagrid?" Harry prompted, not willing to push the giant man's temper far enough that he would clam up and refuse to say anything more.

The man sighed before continuing. "Your parents had stood up to him a lot, they got caugh' up in duels with You-know-who a few times before, and he began a personal hunt, to kill them.'  
"It's when your Grandparents died, a few days after they'd gone into hiding, takin' you with them, but somehow he found you." Putting his head in his hands, he let out a long shuddering sigh. "It was 'alloween, 1981. He killed your dad, and then your mum. But when he turned his wand on you, something 'appened. You need, to understand, the spell he used it kills without fail. Always, but when he used it on you, it was shot back at him, it killed him and all it left on you was that scar on your head."

"So I'm famous for surviving where no one else did?" Harry asked sceptically.

"It's no' jus that 'Arry. Like I said was dark days, but that night, no' only did ya survive, but You-know-who disappeared. Just like that, he was gone and it was finally safe to go out again. You're a hero Harry. One who disappeared just after you saved us all."

"I saved them? Are people really stupid enough to believe a one year old could beat the most fearsome wizard of their time?"

"No one really knows what went on that night beyond you survivin' the Killing Curse and You-know-Who disappearing." He stopped, suddenly, a look of concentration on his face as he tried to figure out how to phrase what he would say next. "People needed a hero Harry, an' you were it, so you became an' overnigh' hero, an' now you're famous."

Leaning back, Harry sat with an indecipherable look on his face.

"Arry?"

The boy let out a noise of acknowledgement, the boy leaned back, putting his hands over his face as he processed what he'd been told. "I think I need to go lie down."

The large man started. "Bu' we need to finish your shopping."

"I can do it tomorrow." The boy waved off uncaringly.

"Arry, I can' let you…"

"I'm a big boy Hagrid. I can handle myself." Harry groaned in exasperation at the heavy handed babying the large man was employing. "I was going to get a room here anyway. So I'm just going to get to it earlier."

"Ya not goin' home?"

"An 18 hour flight, which I'd just have to subject myself to again a few weeks from now?'  
"Nah, no point to it really."

The giant man nodded uncertainly. "Alrigh' then, I'll come back tomorrow then." Hagrid stated with certainty.

"No, that's okay Hagrid, I think I'll be okay."

The large man looked distinctly uncomfortable now. "Well, if you're sure." He said, shaking his head as he stood. Reaching into his jacket, he withdrew a slip of paper, leaving it on the table. "That's your ticket for the Hogwarts Express. It leaves on September 1st, everythin' ya need to know is on the ticket." He grunted walking towards the door.

"Hagrid;" Harry called, causing the man to turn around, hand on the door handle. "I'm sorry I threatened you, it's just everyone else seemed to know more about me than I did myself. I was just desperate you know." The giant man's face softened, a sad smile on his face.

"Tha's alrigh' 'Arry. I guess ya deserved to know. I'll see you at Hogwarts, yeah?"

"Yeah." Harry agreed. "See you then."

-/-

The next day Harry found himself walking into a rather rustic and worn down building.

The shop was a stark contrast to the rest of the alley he'd seen. While the other stores had been bright and inviting, Olivanders Wand Makers (Circa 382 AD) was a musty, unkempt building, the only real reason he could think of for the stores continued existence was the apparent need for wands in the performance of magic and the fact that it seemed to be the only wand store in the alley.

"I was wondering when I would be seeing you, Harry Potter." Harry jumped violently drawing a 9mm berretta from beneath his jacket, spinning around to find an elderly, almost ancient, man staring down the barrel of his gun, a smile stretched across his face. "I must say, I didn't expect our meeting to be quite so exciting."

Harry quirked an eyebrow as he slid the 9mm back into its holster. "Yes, well, you seem to have me at a disadvantage sir."

"Ah, yes, of course. How rude of me, my name is Kane Olivander, and I've been crafting some of the finest wands in the world since 1913." He said with a flourish, pulling out a measuring tape. "Which is your wand hand?"

"Um, I'm right handed, if that means anything." Apparently it did as the tape flew over on its own, wrapping and stretching every which way, from head to toe, finger to shoulder, and he flinched as it went up his inner thigh. "Is this really necessary?"

"Yes, quite." The old man nodded pulling a box of the shelves. "I remember every wand I've ever sold Mr Potter; for instance your father favoured a stout unyielding yew wand, suited towards transfiguration, while your mother was chosen by a rather whippy willow wand, perfect for charm casting."

"Every wand?" Harry asked sceptically.

"Every wand Mr Potter, I take great pride in my work and make it my business to remember, now;" he said, pulling a wand out of the box, handing it over. "There, 9 inches, yew with a unicorn hair core, a mix of both your parents, give it a wave."

As soon as it touched his hand, it was yanked away. "No, no. All wrong, I think you're going to be a tricky customer Mr Potter. But never mind that, we'll find you a match, I promise you that."

-/-

Half an hour later, an increasingly amused Harry and a near giddy Olivander stood surrounded by piles of rejected wands and their boxes.

"A tricky customer indeed, Mr Potter, tricky indeed." The man said, a smile stretching over his face, fingers twitching in joy.

"You've been saying that for the last half hour Mr Olivander." The boy said with a smirk.

"And I'm going to keep saying it every minute until we match you child." Olivander said, digging right back into the shelves with a fever belying his age. "Oh yes, most matches are easy, I usually have them out the door within a minute. I live for these customers Mr Potter, the tricky ones are always the most fun.'  
"Now, I wonder. Maybe, maybe that would suit you perfectly, don't know why I didn't think of it any sooner, but yes, it makes so much sense." The old man rambled, hobbling into the back of the store.

"What makes so much sense?" Harry asked, interest piqued.

"Years ago, oh so many years ago, a rather glorious phoenix appeared in my workshop, burnt a rather large supply of ash wood I had been working with to, well, ash." He said with a chuckle at his wordplay. "I went to approach it, but it vanished with a musical trill in a pillar of flame, taking my workbench with it that time." He grumbled happily, setting a dust covered wand box down on the counter. "In its fiery wake, it left but two feathers behind, feathers which I crafted into 2 of the most glorious wands I have ever had the pleasure of crafting."

Harry let out a low whistle. "And that's one of them?"

"Indeed." The old man said, removing the lid from the box, revealing an exquisitely crafted wand. Holding the wand out to the boy, he quirked an eyebrow. "Give it a wave young Potter."

Nodding, the boy obliged, slowly, almost reverently, the boy reached into the box, grasping the wand firmly.  
The second he did, he stumbled back suddenly as a thrum of power welled up in the wand, before exploding in a surge of fire. Closing his eyes as the magic swirled around him, he let out a sigh of contentment as the fire petered out, going from intense heat to golden sparks in a second, before dying out on the floor.

"Oh. My. Sweet. Unmerciful. Doom." Harry let out happily, collapsing against the window.

"Indeed, I think it's safe to say we've found your wand, Mr Potter. 11 inches, Holly with a Phoenix Feather core, perfect for combat spells I would think. That will be 9 Galleons, if you would?"

Reaching into his jacket weakly, he pulled out an ammo magazine, removing 9 golden coins and dropping them into the man's expecting hand.

"Worth it." The boy smiled. "So very worth it."

"Yes, that is a fine wand Mr Potter, treat it well and it will respond in kind."

"You said… when you went to go get it, you said it made so much sense that I should have this wand, why?" Harry asked standing up straighter, sliding the wand into his pocket, for want of a holster at that moment of time.

The Wandmaker's face dropped a little, his eyes peering into the boy's with a piercing intensity that he'd only seen once before, on the face of his father as he sliced open Stryker, from thigh to jugular.

"As I said, I received two feathers from the phoenix that fateful day, so long ago. The one you just bought is the second, I sold the first one to a young boy many years ago and he had a similar reaction to the one you just experienced." He sighed, lost in his memories for a moment, letting a small bit of silence stretch out for a moment. "He did many great things Mr Potter, things most wizards could only dare to dream of. But they were terrible things Mr Potter.'  
"Very terrible things."

"And why would it make sense for me to be chosen by this wand then?" Harry asked, warily, dreading where this conversation was leading.

"Because, Mr Potter." Olivander said, eyes locking onto the boy's forehead. "Your wand's brother is the wand that carved out that scar."

-/-

It had been a month since he had gotten to Diagon Alley, and it had been a month of fun he would be hard pressed to forget anytime soon. It was a little boring, being outside the sphere of his father's influence and away from any real mutagenic troubles, or so he had seen.

Just an angry little anarchistic fire starter, that had to be cooled down as he attempted to burn down a Starbucks out in Piccadilly Circus.

He had not stuck to the Alley, as interesting as it was, he had never been to London before, so he had decided to be a little touristy on top of preparation for magic school.

He had talked to his dad half way through the month, who had somehow felt it the moment he had decided to blackmail Hagrid, and had promised to get him a brand new M4 for Christmas in celebration.

Nothing more than a few intermittent text messages after that, but Deadpool had said that he was due to be dragged back into the omni-verse of the Deadpool Corps or tripping into an accident that would send him spiralling into yet another time travelling romp. He had an annoying tendency of doing that at a rate that was all too constant to really be called accidental as the functioning insane claimed.

Oh well. As long as he bought back some decent video games Harry would be happy.

On top of gawking at Big Ben and a more rides down to his vaults on the Goblomatic Speed Machine, (Patent Pending) he had been practicing with his wand, learning as many spells as he could, and coming up with ways of using his pistols, Solid and Liquid, his knives Fang and Claw, and his sword, Killing Sword, in conjunction with his wand and the magic.

So far he had covered the blades in fire for a few seconds at a time, charmed the guns to reload from specialty spelled ammo belts on his legs (He had paid someone to do the work for that, not trusting himself to not screw up and explode the guns, but not willing to let such a handy little trick go unattained) and had made it so his bullets melted to the consistency of mercury as they left the barrel.

He really hadn't found much use from that last one; but he would, by Loki he would.

As he stared out the window of his room of the Leaky Cauldron, watching the sky bleed orange asthe sun slowly set, he shook his head softly.

Tomorrow he would be heading out to Pigsores, to learn all about magic and his heritage. Tomorrow, everything would change, his life would be different.

And he still wasn't sure if he was ready for it.

-/-

_Chapter Four, spun out nice and quick for y'all._

_And so ends our look into Diagon Alley, I may refer to side trips made in the coming chapters, but they'll be footnotes at best. Next chapter we board the Hogwarts Express, as we end the summer and make our way into the school year._

-/-

**_Next time, on Kidpool the II and the Philosopher's Stone._**

"Why are you pointing a gun at me?" The girl shrieked, hands tangled in her hair, grasping at the amphibian on her head.

"Helping?" The boy asked more than he stated, looking uncomfortable at the shrieking girl in front of him.

"Helping? How is that helping?" she shrieked, pulling her hands out of her hair quite suddenly, the toad tangling itself up in her hair even more. "Point it somewhere else! She snapped slapping his hand towards the door, just as it slid open, the trigger pushed against his finger at the sudden shift in grip, a gunshot ringing out.

-/-

_Peace out homeboys and homegirls._


	5. In Which Very Little Happens

**The Marvel Universe and Harry Potter aren't mine, I'm just breaking the collective universes for my own sense of twisted amusement.  
**

**-/-  
**

**Chapter 5: In Which Very Little Happens**

**-/-**

"So, I just walk through the brick wall?"

"That's about the gist of it, yes."

Eyebrow raised, he repeated. "Straight through the brick?"

"Yeap." The bartender replied.

"No sequence of wand taps to open up an arch?"

"Nope."

"Just walk through solid brick."

"That's right."

"Right, sure. Because that isn't silly at all Tom the Barkeep."

"You seem to take exception to it, not to good for you is it, oh Boy-Who-Lived?"

"No, of course not. It's the walking through brick that's bringing me up short. Who was the genius who came up with that stellar idea?"

"Look, it's just the way it is, the way it's always been. Either learn to deal with it, or go back to whatever rock you were hiding under for the last 10 years."

"Harry Potter doesn't hide."

"Oh really?"

"Harry Potter goes to ground for an indeterminate amount of time before assessing whether or not it's safe to come out of said ground."

"You're a wordy little brat aren't you?"

"I've been here a month and you're only just figuring that out?"

"Oh, you can't be gone nearly quick enough."

-/-

He was better than this. He had stared down countless beings in his short life, all hell bent on killing and scorching the earth beneath their feet. He had been the captive of Government Black Ops and super villains a plenty. He had gazed into the face of Carnage incarnate and come out the other side relatively unharmed. He would not lose to some stupid brick wall.

"Umm, dear, what are you doing?" he tensed slightly as someone addressed him, without moving his gaze he replied.

"Staring."

"Staring?" The voice replied, slightly curious but a little apprehensive as well. "At the wall?"

"Yeap." he shot back, hand drifting to his thigh, patience about worn, ready to just put a few bullets through it to be sure.

"Did you, see someone walk through the wall?" finally peeling his eyes from the wall, Harry turned his gaze towards the voice, a portly woman, middle aged with slightly greying orange hair and an absolute sea of orange standing around her.

"Maybe, what's it to you?"

"Oh, I do so apologize, I didn't mean to come off rude." She said apologetically, her cheeks reddening slightly in embarrassment. "Are you off to Hogwarts as well?" Well, that was all the answer he needed, the gaggle of ginger kids were apparently going to be spending the year locked in the same institution as him for the duration of the year, may as well make some friends.

"Yes, I do believe I am." the boy said, arms crossing. "I'm just having a little trouble, er, acclimatising to the idea of walking straight through solid brick, you know?"

The woman nodded in sympathy, as if she was planning to just smother him up against her ample bosom with a hug. "I understand, it's Ron's first year as well." she said with a smile, eyes turning towards the smallest red headed boy behind her. "But he's been through before, when his brothers go off for the year. As for Ginny;" she said, obviously referring to the lone pre-pubescent girl among them. "She'll be starting next year."

"But mum, I wanna go this year." the titchy little thing squeaked out.

"You know the rules Ginny, you have to wait until you're 11."

"But mum..."

"No buts. And I'll hear no more about it." She said with an air of finality. "Fred, George, you go in first."

"I'm Fred, he's George." one of the boys replied with a grin.

"Honestly woman, you call yourself our mother." The other one finished.

"Oh, sorry boys, go on."

"Just kidding, I am George." Harry let a small smile take over, he could learn to like those two. With a huff, she turned towards the older boy, "Percy," and beckoned him to follow.

"Alright boys, I'll go through with Ginny, you two follow on quickly." she ordered, setting through the arch with a trot, pulling her daughter along with her.

"You should run." Ron piped up from beside me.

"Excuse me?" Harry asked, wondering just how big and brass the boy's balls had to be to threaten the son of Deadpool so casually.

He smiled a little jerking his thumb towards the wall. "They say it's easier the first time if you take it at a run."

"Oh." Well now he felt like a bit of a dick for assuming. "I will, if you will."

Ron quirked an eyebrow with a smirk. "Are you scared?"

"No." Distaste dripping from his voice. Wilson's don't get scared. (Wolverine clause not withstanding) "I'm just suitably cautious of willingly running into a brick wall."

"Come on then you prat." the redhead sniped, running out in front and disappearing into the brick work.

"Oh, no you didn't." Harry murmured, boy and luggage melting through the wall.

-/-

"How in the hell did I manage to lose a veritable sea of Orange?" Harry bit out for the thousandth time, collapsing onto the seat he had chosen for himself. It was a testament to just how closed up and squashed the platform was that he had managed to lose them with a mere 5 second delay. But it was okay, he was sure he'd see Ron again soon enough, if not on the train then when they got to the school surely.

Reaching into his satchel he pulled out a book he had been meaning to read for a while, but couldn't really find the time for.

-/-

_Mutants - Mental Deviance  
By Geoffiric Dowry_

_Introduction_

_Words of mutants, Muggles born with powers reminiscent of magic yet unique among the bearers have been floating around since as early as the 16th Century. Stories of people made of fire, people able to read the thoughts of others and dominate their wills and even people with the ability to change their faces to mimic all those around them._

_These stories are false, and are nothing more than Wizards playing around with magic fearing muggles. Even so, these stories remain strong, some wizards and witches even buying into this deficient way of thinking, don't be fooled. Mutants are not real, they are not a possibility and most importantly, they are not a threat._

_This book, my writings, are here to tell you, to show you, just why to believe in a mutant race, is almost as bad as being a mudblood._

-/-

"Pleasant guy." Harry scoffed, rolling his eyes and clapping the book shut. "Almost seems like some of Doom's early scripture, only infinitely… stupider.

No such thing as mutants, pfft. Yeah right, and Wolverine was just a figment of his imagination that had become tangible in the minds and news of every person on the planet. But then again, he supposed it would make for a novelty read. Going to open it again, he was interrupted by the cabin door sliding open.

"Excuse me, but have you seen a toad? A boy named Neville has lost one."

"No can't say I have, sorry."

"Oh, well that's okay then."

As the girl went to leave, Harry did a double take, eyes fixed on the back of her head.

"Um, wait… did you say he lost a Toad?" the boy asked, holding back a snicker.

"Yes…" she said warily, unsure about just what he would do next.

"Like, say, the toad tangled up in your hair?"

The girl started, hands going up to her hair, tentatively, grasping through the brown tangles, a wet squelch and a ribbit her only reply.

The subsequent squeal was ear shattering.

"Get it out, get it out, get it out!" The girl crowed, shaking her hair.

"Oh come on, it's just a toad." Harry laughed, shaking his head.

"It's also slimy and in my hair, now do something you... you... BOY!" She stammered out hands flailing through her hair, the toads panicked croaks getting louder and louder as it got more and more knotted into the brown locks.

"Okay, okay, no need to be hurtful." smirking he reached for Solid, pointing it straight at the girl. "Now hold still, and we'll have this all sorted out."

"Why are you pointing a gun at me?" The girl shrieked hands tangled in her hair, grasping at the amphibian on her head.

"Helping?" The boy asked more than he stated, looking uncomfortable at the shrieking girl in front of him.

"Helping? How is that helping?" she shrieked, pulling her hands out of her hair quite suddenly, the toad tangling itself up in her hair even more. "Point it somewhere else! She shrieked slapping his hand towards the door, just as it slid open, the trigger pushed against his finger at the sudden shift in grip, and a gunshot rang out.

Harry and Hermione's eyes widened and their jaws dropped, as a blond boy stood there, needle in his shoulder.

"What the hell…" Draco Malfoy slurred as he collapsed into unconsciousness.

Harry's mouth opened and closed in silent shock, the two rather beefy boys behind the blond (That he vaguely remembered from Madam Malkin's) stared down stupidly at their friend.

Gulping audibly, Harry grinned awkwardly.

"Whoops?"

The two meat tanks growled loudly cracking their knuckles as they moved forward angrily.

"Whoa, whoa! Hold on, hold on, see this? Know what it is?" he said, waving his modified M9, Solid, forward, finger on the trigger, hoping to all that was holy they seemed to be as Muggle retarded as the good majority of Magical people he had run into over the last month had seemed to be. Seeing their shaking heads, he let out a feral grin.'

"This is a Muggle wand. Right now, it's set to knockout its target, but if I do this." He smiled, pulling back the hammer, the Wilson bluffing face out in full force. "Now, it'll knock you out turn your skin purple and reduce you to a slimy, slobbering mess wallowing in your own pee. Now, do you really want to try this?"

The two mini Hulks stalled in their advances, staring warily at the gun in Harry's hand.

"Come on boys, not a hard choice here. Run and avoid embarrassment, or stay and suffer humiliation forever and ever." Staring at them carefully, he waited, not even sure if the two lumbering teenagers (for no 11 year old could possibly that large) even understood him. But as they grabbed the blonde boy, which he now recognized as the same idiot from Madam Malkin's, hefting him up between the two of them and stumbled out.

"Man, can't believe I bluffed them OW!" he bit out as the bushy haired girl slapped him over the head. "What was that for?"

"You pointed a gun at me!"

"At the Toad, there is a distinction in there somewhere." He muttered weakly.

"It was in my hair! Pointing the gun at the Toad was pointing the gun at me! Why do you even have a gun anyway?" She screamed, the girl did have a set of lungs on her, Harry had to admit that.

"I have an exciting life style."

"Enlighten me."

"Yeah, that's not going to happen." The girl looked on shocked at his refusal.

"Why not?" she huffed, finally tearing the amphibian free from the jungle that was her head.

"Because I've just met you? Because I don't even know you?" Harry began.

"But I..."

"No, no no. I'm not done." Harry cut her off. "You come in here, you don't let me line up an insanely easy shot to put the damn toad to sleep, you smack away a loaded and cocked gun, which is never a smart thing to do, I shot a student and I had to nearly shoot more to avoid being squished into paste by the sons of the Hulk, and you think I'm going to tell you all about my life because you demand it?" He asked incredulously, watching as the girl went from outraged to ashen to outraged and on the verge of tears within the span of his rant.

The only answer was a wet squelch as he found a toad hurtling towards his face. "Go to hell, you... you..."

"What? Boy?" He snorted. "Come back when you graduate to big girl pants."

The girl let out a strangled scream as tears welled up in her eyes, she stormed out of the compartment, slamming the door behind her.

Letting out a strangled sigh, he collapsed, the toad nestling itself on his head. "Dad was right. We men will never understand woman."

His only answer was a series of croaks.

-/-

And Harry had thought Gringotts had been a sight to behold.

"That's our school?" Harry asked Hagrid quietly, having taken the spot left in the large man's little raft, his peers having to pair up in fours in the fleet behind him.

Hagrid chuckled at Harry's awe/ "She's summin' huh?"

"Something is a massive understatement Hagrid." He replied, unable to actually comprehend just how awesome it was, going to a school in a completely for reals castle.

-/-

"You wanna know something strange Logan?" **The fabulous assassin Deadpool questioned of the deadly, and arguably insane Wolverine, X-man, New Avenger and fellow victim of the Weapon X project for those of you just joining us. **

"All I want to know right now Wade is your intestines wrapped around your neck!" _Wolverein foamed, a crazed look in his eyes._

**No, no, no. It's Wolverine, not Wolverein.**

_Really I could have sworn..._

"In the last half hour, I have blown you up, dropped a piano on your head and had you dragged behind an ambulance for 20 minutes." I continue, ignoring the Yellow and White boxes bickering in my head. "And yet still I fell as if Tito II has somehow managed to have a moment of awesome completely outstripping kicking James Logan all across San Fran."

"DIE!"

"...ah well." _Deadpool sighed. _"I'm sure once I've got you all wrapped in chains you'll be significantly more willing to listen to the woes of a father outstripped by his son."

**Woolvorin **(_Wolverine!) _**just kept on stabbing.**

-/-

**Sorry.**

**I know there isn't much happening in this chapter, but it's necessary transition and if it wasn't already getting somewhat long I probably would have had the feast and sorting scenes here as well. As it is I'm going to need to start the next chapter there and progress to the first week, which is somewhat frustrating for myself and probably more so for you the reader.**

As such, the sorry.

See you guys next time, hopefully with more substance.

_PREVIEW_

_"That was a 3 headed dog."_

"_I suppose it was."_

_"Why are you not panicking? There is a Cerberus in the Castle! In our school!"_

_"Meh, I've seen worse."_

****


	6. Convoluted Reasons to Get Into an Office

**Kidpool the II and the Philosopher's Stone ****Chapter Six**

_Deadpool belongs to Marvel Comics and Harry Potter to JK Rowling.  
__Insert Witty Snark Here. _

* * *

Walking up towards the intimidating stone castle, Harry had a thought. It wasn't much of a thought and in fact it wasn't even that important to either his own current situation or even to the situations of those around him, either currently on the sloping cobble stones or back in the states at the Xavier Academy, the desk of Peter Parker at the Daily Bugle or even the Avenger's Tower. (Okay, maybe not that one)

But for its complete and total unimportance at this point in time, it should still be mentioned anyway, as this thought would prove absolute, if not vital, later on in the school life of Harry Potter the Wilson Raised Wizard.

_'I wonder if I could ride Hagrid like a horse.'_

* * *

This was the great and mystical test that the Junior Wizard's club had been so apprehensive of? Wearing an old hat?

Although to be fair to the old piece of cloth, it was kind of cool that it could talk and sing. (Oh boy could it sing)

"Potter, Harry." Oh, that was him right? Yeah, that was him, or so the bated still of the entire hall told him.

"Alright Potter, you just have to put on a hat, s'not as if you have to face down Carnage or anything." With a confident stride, he marched his way through the airs of silence and slapped the raggedy hat over his eyes.

A beat passed, and then another.

"...well, huh."

Quirking a hidden brow, Harry replied with all of the composure he had at his beck and call, "'Huh' what?"

"...your childhood."

"What about it?"

"It was..."

"Stable and Nurturing?"

"Yeah sure. Lets go with that." The magical hat muttered sardonically. "Its honestly a wonder you're still sane."

"Huh, Wolverine says the same thing, wonder if there's a reason for it."

"On the other hand, I've been wrong before."

Harry snorted at the talking hat's snark. Okay, he had to admit that this wasn't so bad. Sure he may have been wearing a glorified dress and there was that unfortunate accident on the train ("_Unfortunate he_ says.") but the school was a Castle, with towers and everything. That meant dungeons and secret passages and castle!

"Not exactly the most focused individual are you."

And of course there was the living breathing, talking magical hat that was set to determine the entirety of his academic and professional life.

"Now that is a bit of a stretch." The hat grumbled, not soundly too entirely convinced itself.

_'All Slytherins 'arry, bad apples they are.' _He thought, recalling something Hagrid had said on the plane ride over from the States.

"Point proven. So not Slytherin then?"

"Probably not. I mean I wouldn't mind, but way to much scrutiny I think considering I'm apparently famous." Harry chuckled.

"No apparently about it. Some of the ideas this young ladies have these day, makes a piece of cloth blush."

"So not Slytherin then. Ravenclaw?"

"You don't have nearly the required attention span."

"Hufflepuff?"

"I'd rather not be responsible for the mental scarring of an entire House."

"Me? Scar their minds? Never."

"And that leaves us with the default, have fun being Cannon Fodder in... GRYFFINDOR!"

"Cannon what now?"

A deafening applause covered his protests and demands of the raggedy piece of cloth as it was plucked from his head and the old witch gestured him towards the dancing and hooting table all dressed up in Red and Gold, the twins Weasly hooked arm in arm in a twitchy, parody of a dance cheering 'We got Potter' over and over again, bringing a slight tinge of red to his cheeks.

He'd faced all sorts in his brief 10 year stint in the City of Wilson, he'd joked with Spiderman, been coddled by Kitty Pryde and even the legendary Janet Pym, but he'd never had peers before.

"So, Wolverine, Sabertooth and Magneto walk into a bar..." he muttered, easing his nerves with a quiet joke.

"What was that Harrikens?" One twin asked, as the other yanked him by the arm and shoved him bodily down into a seat between the two (Having stopped dancing their little dance for now) their brother, Percy, sat down opposite from them.

"Oh nothing, nothing at all. Just, think I'm having a panic attack is all." Harry chuckled, fingers dancing along the handle of one of his knives under the hems of his robe."

"What's wrong? Don't you just shoot all your problems?"

Quirking his head, he found a somewhat beligerent Hermione staring down at him, brow furrowed in dissaproval at his mere presence.

"I'm quite sure I've no idea what you mean." Harry returned, his eyes shooting towards the ceiling guiltily, not actually able to recall the last time he had solved a problem by not pointing and shooting.

Well, he had blackmailed Hagrid without going all John Wayne, but then again he had pointed the mental equivelance of a nuclear missile at the large man in the form of Professor Xavier, and could actually be said as being worse all up.

"See you can't even remember!" She almost shrieked, gesturing wildly as 'Zabini, Blaise' was called up to the sorting hat. "What kind of a person would let a psychopath like you into the general population?"

Fighting the urge to just draw Solid and send the girl off to sleep with a well placed Tranq dart (His hand actually twitched at the stifling of the inborn impulse) he let out a groan. "First off, I'm no pscychotic or path of any kind, secondly, didn't we have this discussion on the train, just after you actively endangered a student's life by getting stupid over a toad?"

"What?" Percy hissed as Hermione's cheeks burnt red and her eyes went wide, insecurity bursting behind the pupils. "What do you mean by that Potter?"

"Nothing, it was sorted." Harry brushed off, not exactly realising the authority that Percy carried as a Prefect of Hogwarts, not that he even knew or cared about the position anyway. "Now, unless you want to keep going, I would like to apologize to the man in the eye wateringly purple dress for apparently stealing his thunder." He wrapped up, turning towards the front where a wizened old man in resplendently neon purple robes and with the longest and whitest beard Harry had ever seen (Odin would be jealous), offering a small bow. "I apologize."

"Nevermind, it is always entertaining to see the new students blend and interact with their peers, especially when they take no heed of my position as Headmaster." he replied with a jovial air, the declaration causing Hermione, to retreat even further into herself with a sharp high meep that Harry found entirely to exagerated for what he had learned of her up to this point. "Although I do believe that we need discuss a few things after we've eaten and fed Mr Potter, Miss Granger." He gestured, out towards the rest of the students. "And to think I had a whole speech and everything prepared, but I believe it will be hard to top that performance so please, as hungry as you must all be I bid you, dig in."

And with a clap of his hands, and a flourish of his arms, there was food, and it was good.

* * *

Dinner had been okay.

Not to say that it hadn't sated his appetite like nothing before or that it hadn't rattled his taste buds like previous meals couldn't even begin to rattle, no the meal had probably been one of the best meals he had ever had the luxury ney; the privilege to devour such cuisine was a great one and, considering he still had a whole years worth of meals similar to it left to go, he could be quite sure that, if nothing else, he would be spoiled for any other food forever after his time in the castle of Hogsores. (It had halfway earned his usage of it's full name)

No, he had enjoyed the food, what had marred the experience was the coming conversation, the one that he had assumed would be happening shortly after he began his stay in the Diagonal Alley and the biggest reason why he had begun to regret putting Hagrid through not only the stress of Pain Factor, but for acting like a spoiled child and threatening to tear into the large man's head to learn what he wanted to know.

And that, now compounded by the incident with Hermione on the train and the mini blow up in the Great Hall and obvious connections being made to the condition of the Malfoy bloke, there was little doubt that he was going to enjoy the coming conversation.

Shooting his gaze to a fidgeting Hermione as they walked side by side behind the stern almost feline faced, Deputy Headmistress, Professor McGonagal as they had been introduced, he sighed. She would sing, like a goddamn tenor. She would mention his guns, how he had shot one student and threatened to shoot others, a story which he was sure Malfoy and his mountains would be more than willing to back up.

Stopping at the foot of a stone gargoyle, McGonagal gestured for Hermione to step forward as the stone leapt to life and stepped aside with a flourishing bow. "If you would Miss Granger, Mr Potter you are to wait here until you are fetched." Nodding his assent, he sighed as the Gargoyle blocked the stairway once more with all of the built up dread of the last 4 weeks.

She would sing and there was nothing he could do to fix this.

Plopping down next to the Stone Guardian, the young boy produced a Deck of cards. "You know Black Jack?" The stone didn't reply.

"Solitaire it is then."

* * *

**Finally. God I struggled so much with this, its gone through at least 3 different versions, 1 where I actually sent him to Ravenclaw because I wanted to shake it up but I couldn't do that. He just wouldn't fit in.**

**Also I apologize for hovering over this one day for so long, really, one more paragraph here and we'll advance the plot. I promise.  
**

**So enjoy. Review and all that.**


	7. Can This Day Just Be Over Already?

**Kidpool the II and the Philosopher's Stone ****Chapter Seven  
**

_Deadpool belongs to Marvel Comics and Harry Potter to JK Rowling.  
__Insert Witty Snark Here. _

* * *

Walking into the Headmaster's office, Harry had to take a second to marvel at all of the shiny. From trinkets to whatsits and whosits galore. There seemed to be an unending mass of useless junk. Although, considering this man's standing, he doubted much of it was all that useless.

In fact, it kind of reminded him a little of Weasel's bolt hole. Only more... organized.

"Good evening Mr Potter, I hope you are in good health?" The wizened old man asked, snapping Harry's attention back to him. The old man peered over half moon glasses, a small smile on his face, his eyes dull and sad. "Mr Malfoy cannot say much the same."

Harry flinched, he hadn't meant to shoot the guy. "Yeah.." he mumbled. Why, why was he mumbling? He never mumbled. Although, he always shied into himself around Xavier, but not quite to this extent. "He'll get better..." God that was lame.

"Yes, I suppose it was only a mild sedative you shot into him. Not all that nasty." The old man shook his head slowly, eyes closed in what seemed to be sadness. "Unfortunately, you have injured a fellow student, with a weapon designed for nothing else but causing harm." Harry's eyes darted up. "Oh indeed. Do not think me to be as ignorant of the non-magical world as the rest of my, no our, society." He quickly corrected himself.

"Now, I have heard accounts from all sides except your own, do not think I will not hear you out Mr Potter, I am not so unilaterally minded." Harry let out a sigh, expulsion didn't scare him. Not with his apparent fame, there had to be a school out there that would take him, hell, maybe one back in the States. However...

"No matter what, I'm not going to able to hold on to my guns am I?" Harry asked with a hint of bitterness.

"I do not condone weapons in my school Mr Potter, I find it disturbing that you have access to such weapons, in fact, in all honesty, it somewhat scares me that a child of your age seems to have such familiarity with it."

Sighing, Harry drew both Solid and Liquid out of their holsters, shifting into stance, the hammers were pulled and several echoing booms erupted, 9 points of impact slamming against the office window, spiderwebbing cracks across it.

"Mr Potter, what are you doing?" The old man asked, smile gone and voice like steel.

"Sorry, I just figured I'd use what was left in the clips." He smiled wryly. "Wouldn't want you shooting yourself in the face accidentally."

"I assure you Mr Potter, that when I said I understood what your weapons could do, I was not overstating my understanding." And Harry could see that there was no lie in the eye.  
No, there was no ignorance in the old man's eyes. "Right, so... just how hard am I expelled?" Harry chuckled, flopping into a chair in front of the desk, Solid held out by the barrel for the old man to grasp, Liquid resting on the desk.

"Expulsion Mr Potter? I have not even heard your side of the story. This is a very finely crafted weapon though." The headmaster observed, eyes darting across every inch of the steel. "Military grade 9mm. Am I correct?"

"M9, American handguns. One customized for tranq rounds instead of normal bullets." Harry muttered distractedly, watching the old man examine the weapons. "You know, if you do want to expel me, I wouldn't mind. I'm sure I could find somewhere else to train me, somewhere closer to home."

"Ah yes." The old man said with a smile. "I am sure that you would have no trouble at all, no matter a previous expulsion on your records, the Americans would just love to be able that they stole the Boy-Who-Lived from us." He sighed. "Although, I suppose in a way, they already have."

"How do you figure?" Harry asked with a quirk of an eyebrow, only to stop at the Headmaster's own raised brow. "Okay, but I wasn't stolen. So far as I know I've always been American."

"That is true." The old man admitted with a bow of his head. "But I can assure you, you were born here and lived here, even if only for a year."

"But we aren't here to talk about my heritage, are we?" Harry smiled wanly

"No I suppose we aren't, let me hear your side Mr Potter."

"Well..." He hesitated, nervousness still flitting about his chest. "It all started with a girl who didn't want to kiss a toad..."

* * *

In most other situations, Harry would find the feathery softness of the pillow a welcome experience. The plush, overblown touch of goose down (Or maybe the down of some sort of Magical Bird, he didn't know) wrapping around his face was a luxury he almost never had, the only other place being Xavier's School...

_'Ugh, Dad was right. They are both cults. Enrapturing today's youth with promises of power and comfy beds.'_

No, he would have loved to enjoy the softness, but the distinct lack of Solid and Liquid kept gnawing at him. His very sense of security being thrown into chaos by the lack of even a single firearm on his body.

Groaning, he spun around onto his back, pulling the pillow around with him, smothering it over his face.

If today was indicative of the next seven years, the whole magic thing was going to blow.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was the first person who would tell you that he was old.

There were very few Witches and Wizards who lived to see 150 and even fewer who retained and commanded as much strength and power as he had.  
Yes he was old and, Magic be Good he would get even older, but there were times where he truly felt all 150 something years at its fullest.

Taking not one, but two firearms off of an 11 year old with a frightening familiarity for the weapons was one of them.

What had happened, where had his plan to see Harry to safety gone so wrong as to lead him to such a point? What had happened to the boy growing up with his aunt and uncle in Surrey?

And most importantly, how had the boy ended up with such a character as this Deadpool that Hagrid had encountered?

Heaving a sigh, he smiled as Fawkes let off a calming chirp. "I know Fawkes... it could be infinitely worse. He could be just as rambunctious as our old friend Tom... Or maybe I am doing as Amarldo did and letting the boy charm his way into my heart?"

A derisive trill.

"Hmm, of course not. You would have told me otherwise." Standing from his plush, highbacked chair, the old Headmaster strolled over to his Pensieve, wand stirring the silvery mixture of his memories, pulling forth the forms of two old friends. "I have always believed that, when it came to that fateful Hallow's Eve, I took the right course, made the correct choices." Staring into eyes that would never again recognise him, he sighed. "Lily... James... Was I right or have I failed him?"

The ghostly images gave no reply.

* * *

**And the day is over. Finally.**

**Not much to say on this one other than excuses upon excuses, which, lets face it, are just pointless lip service so we aren't even going to bother.**

**As always, read, review and favourite! Unless you don't like it, then, I guess, go read something else.**

**Jordan gone.**


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